Breaking the Cycle
by Starrika
Summary: Paul imprints on Holly, a pregnant woman from a troubled background. He struggles with his anger and tries to win her trust; Holly struggles with finding herself and believing in legends. Will either of them be able to overcome their past?
1. Chapter 1

AN: Thanks to Kim for the beta :)

* * *

It was pushing eighty-five degrees and the sky was mostly clear. Summer in Forks was a stark contrast to the gray skies and persistent rain of the rest of the year. With a sigh, Holly took a seat to roll down the crank for the driver's side window. The window creaked down slowly, and she wished she had the money to get the air conditioning fixed. The car had sizzled in the parking lot all day and just opening the door had nearly knocked her over with the oppressive heat.

With another sigh, she leaned over to pop up the manual lock for the passenger side before lumbering over to the other side of the car to repeat the process with the passenger side window. Her feet ached and her head was starting to pound. To cap off a long day at work, she was starving.

Making her way back to the driver's side, she tried to think of the food in her pantry. "What do you think?" she murmured, patting her stomach as she felt a familiar flutter. "Peanut butter again?" she said lightly. She'd never been a fan of peanut butter growing up, but she'd done nothing but crave it for the past seven months.

Holly started the car and turned her fan on full blast, letting her head fall back against the headrest for a moment. The car would cool down once it got moving, but she just needed a moment. The day at work had been long, and she wanted nothing more than to just sleep.

The baby gave another kick and Holly gave a small, hollow laugh. "Not until I eat. I know."

Putting her car in reverse, she backed out of her spot and left the parking lot of the Olympia Suites Motel. It took only ten minutes for her to get to her tiny house, and she met the sight with a smile. Finding it had been sheer luck. The house was a tiny two bedroom where the owner – an older woman – had died, and her nephew in Los Angeles wanted to move the property quickly, furnishings included. It had fallen into her lap just as Forks had. Both times, she'd overheard other people talking, and things fell into place.

It was practically providential. The thought made her smile. _Anne of Green Gables_ was rubbing off on her again if she was using words like providence in her thoughts.

It didn't take her long to settle down at the small kitchen table, peanut butter and banana sandwich in one hand and a baby name book in the other. She'd been looking over names for the past few months, making detailed lists of pros and cons. She still hadn't found the perfect name yet.

"What should I name you, baby girl?" she murmured, one hand coming to rest on her stomach again. She cleared away her dinner dishes, rinsing them methodically in the sink. There was something about washing dishes by hand that was soothing, in a mindless sort of way.

Holly settled herself on the couch, baby name book folded around the 'G' section. She tossed it on the table and decided not to switch on the radio, instead listening to the hum of cicadas and the wind through the trees. Forks was so quiet, so peaceful.

So safe.

With an oomph, she reached under the sofa to retrieve her ball of yarn and needles, then pushed herself back upright on the cushions. As it was, she was practically reclining. She was so tired, but she wanted to get just a little bit more done on the blanket she was knitting. It'd been a long time since she was taught, but she was managing somewhat-decently so far. It was only a simple knit stitch – no fancy flowers or borders – but it was something for the baby. That thought alone powered her to get a bit more done tonight, tired or not.

"Some Friday night, eh," she said quietly, the corner of her mouth quirking. As if she heard, the baby kicked in reply. Holly dropped the needle from one hand, letting her palm rest on her stomach. She closed her eyes, trying to picture the baby. Maybe she would have blonde hair like her mama, and if she were lucky, eyes of a deeper blue. Hopefully she'd have Brian's nose.

Holly dropped that thought quickly. Perhaps the baby would have curly hair, and she could tie little ribbons in her hair. She'd be such a happy baby – eager to giggle, always with a smile. Holly could almost picture it: the wide baby eyes, the downy hair of a newborn, and the effervescent baby laugh.

The baby would sleep in the wooden crib she'd found a few weeks ago, with the mobile that played Pachebel's Canon, starfish and seahorses dancing in time. She'd paint the walls a pretty blue and find some seashells down on the beach. The seashells would go on the windowsill, and she would move the rocking chair from downstairs up into the bedroom.

She would rock her by the window, and put her to bed in the crib. She'd go down without a peep, and Holly had nothing to fear. The wolf would keep watch over her. He was curled up on the floor, next to the crib, with such soft silver-gray fur. She reached out a hand to touch and the wolf's head snapped up. His amber eyes locked with hers.

Holly woke up on the couch gasping, yarn still in her lap. In the distance, she heard a wolf howl from the open window and she shivered. It was just a dream.

* * *

Showers blew in overnight, cooling down the air and leaving the skies gray. Holly shivered and shut her front door, going back to retrieve a long sleeved shirt. She'd thought it would be warmer, but the air had more of a chill than she would have expected in late June. Washington was so very different from Ohio. It was something she loved, but it was also incredibly off-putting at times.

That difference wasn't a thought she wanted to dwell on, and she hastily buttoned the white shirt she'd grabbed. She had today off, and she had too many things to do. The first thing she wanted to do was get down to the beach and see if she could find some shells. She wasn't sure if she'd find much, but she wanted to go now. She'd made lots of lists of things to do in the next two months. She wanted everything to be perfect when the baby arrived.

As perfect as it _could_ be, a voice in the back of her head whispered.

She grabbed a canvas bag on her second time out the door, this time much more comfortable in long sleeves. It was only about twelve miles to the beach, and Holly smiled slightly at the salty smell in the air. She never imagined living so close to the ocean. When the baby got older, she could take her down to the sand and teach her how to build castles. She could dabble her little feet in the ocean. She would have a _peaceful_ childhood.

Before she knew it, she was parking the car on the pavement, hearing the waves rush onto the beach. water was gray-blue, blending in with the sky. She couldn't help but smile as she walked down the path to the sand. If she was lucky, she might find a sand dollar, maybe a nautilus shell. The beach was full of driftwood, and she could see some tourists further down, looking for whales. She'd never seen a whale, except for pictures and television, but Holly didn't linger looking out to the ocean. She probably couldn't spot a whale without binoculars, anyway – and to her, the water just looked _cold_. There had probably been a surfer or two yesterday, with the warmer temperatures, but it seemed like the chill had chased them all off, except some idiots jumping off a cliff – without wetsuits.

Holly rolled her eyes, back to hunting for shells, trying to ignore their whoops and running up and down the beach as they emerged from the ocean and began tossing a ball around. Instead of a shell, she found a piece of green sea glass. It was rather large, and Holly held it up to look at the etchings. Perhaps she could do something with sea glass? She knew tourists liked to buy jewelry made from it. Maybe she could try and make it into a necklace for the baby - when she was older. Holly fingered the enamel heart pendant around her neck, still holding up the glass in the hazy light. Vaguely, she heard the teenagers yelling again, but she didn't pay any attention. Were teenagers really that loud back in high school?

Something slammed into her face, and Holly dropped the glass as she tumbled backwards. She threw her hands back to catch herself, wincing as one hand landed on a sharp piece of driftwood. Splinters embedded themselves in her hand, and her back ached from the jarring landing. She drew in a sharp breath and blinked rapidly, more surprised than actually hurt. She felt another flutter, and let out the breath she'd been holding. The baby was fine.

"Sorry! We're so sorry! Didn't you hear us yell? Are you all right? I'm so sorry!" Their voices tumbled over each other, and Holly sucked in a breath as four very tall men towered over her.

"I'm – I'm fine," she said softly, putting a hand down to lift herself up, wincing again as the splinters dug into her palm. Two of them put hands under her elbow, effortlessly lifting her, as if the extra weight in her belly didn't matter. Based on the size of their arms, it probably didn't, she realized.

"Are you deaf or something?" she heard one of them mutter as he picked up the ball, and Holly shrank back, fumbling for her bag, bleeding palm forgotten. She just wanted to _leave_.

"Shut up, Paul," another hissed – one of the men who'd helped her up. The other man picked up her bag that she'd dropped and then grabbed her hand. "You're bleeding."

Holly tried to pull away from his grasp, shoulders hunched. "Please, let me go," she whispered in panic, voice rising enough at the end that the others bickering all turned to look at her, shocked. She withdrew her shaking hand and grabbed her bag quickly.

She looked up for a moment, seeing the shocked and baffled expressions on their faces. "I'm – I'm sorry," she whispered, turning abruptly and walking away as fast as she could. "Please don't follow me, please don't follow me," she said shakily under her breath, trying to ignore the stinging in her hand.

When she got a few yards away and closer to her car, she spared a quick glance over her shoulder. The men – how could she have thought them teenagers? – were still standing in the same spot, two of them restraining a third. The fourth was watching her, and Holly quickly whipped her head back in the direction of her car, fighting the urge to get in her car and drive away, far, far away from Forks.

It didn't mean anything. It was just an accident. They were just trying to help. They _weren't_ blaming her. They didn't mean to hurt her.

They weren't Brian.


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Thanks again to Kim for the beta!

* * *

"Hey, Paul, we're going to the beach. Get your ass moving," Jacob yelled, ducking at the pillow launched at his head.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep," Paul groaned, pissed off but too tired to actually do anything to Jacob. He'd crashed on Sam and Emily's couch after patrolling all night, and he'd only been asleep for a few hours when the rest of them had started getting restless.

"Told you he's scared of heights," Jared said with a laugh. Paul flipped him off as he tried to bury his head under the cushions.

"Fuck off. You cried like a fucking girl the first time you jumped," Paul said, getting a mouth full of sofa fuzz. He pushed himself up into a sitting position with another groan. "Why the fuck do we have to go cliff diving at –" he paused to look at the clock on the wall, "-eleven in the morning?"

"Cause the tourists are out on the beach looking for whales. College girls, man," Embry said with obvious enthusiasm.

He had a point. Paul had just finished high school, but all of the pack looked older. And the cliff diving did seem to attract the girls. Paul yawned, jaw opening so wide that it cracked. "Fine, but I want some fucking coffee first. "

Embry and Jacob let out a whoop and took off outside, leaving Jared standing there. He crossed his arms. "Get your own. I'm not your bitch," he said with a laugh.

Paul cracked a smile. Jared had been his best friend practically since birth – and Paul could totally take him. Jared had been bigger all the way up until fifth grade, making Paul do all the shitty stuff, and Paul was still paying him back for it. "If I wanted you to, you'd get it for me, _bitch_," he replied with a laugh that sounded more like a bark. He pushed himself off from the couch and wandered into the kitchen, not bothering to put a shirt on. He had pants on, that was decent enough. Emily had practically seen them all naked at this point anyway. "Hi, Em," he said, seeing Emily drying the dishes in the rack.

"Hi, Paul," Emily replied, the one side of her mouth quirked into a grin, as if she were trying not to laugh. "Coffee's on the table for you. Just don't let Sam hear you call me bitch," she teased. This time she did laugh, and Jared joined in, falling into the chair next to him. There was a huge mug of coffee sitting there, steaming, with just a little bit of milk like he liked it. Emily was a fucking _queen_.

"Very funny, Em," Paul replied, rolling his eyes. He smiled, though. Em was amazing and he owed her for a lot more than just food. She could talk shit to him all day long if she wanted. Not that shit-talking was a regular thing for her. He could practically see the halo glinting off the top of her head.

The coffee helped, and Paul found himself plummeting towards the ocean in no time. They were yelling and making noise, trying to get the tourists to notice, and he didn't want to know _where_ Embry had been hiding the Nerf ball, but he caught it before it smacked him in the face. Jacob had already taken off running, so he'd been in on the whole thing. Dunking it in the water so it was sopping wet, Paul threw the ball back at Embry, hitting him on the shoulder. Jared caught the ball as it glanced off Embry and chucked it back at Paul.

"Ow," Embry yelled, taking off down the beach. "Nice of you to hit me in that shoulder, asshole," he added. Embry had been lucky enough to hit a rock on the way down.

Paul grinned. "You fuckers woke me up," he yelled back, throwing the ball as hard as he could. Embry was a lot further down the beach now, so he could see it coming. Instead of catching it, he ducked, and the ball continued on its path towards some chick on the beach.

They all yelled at her to look up, but she didn't do jack shit, and the ball ended up hitting her in the face. Paul was pissed. This meant Sam was going to yell at them about being _careful_ around others and all that shit _again_. Embry and Jacob were helping her up when Paul caught up to them, down the beach. He leant down to grab the ball, muttering to himself and ignoring Jared's reproach. Yeah, he was a fucking Protector – but he shouldn't have to protect some chick from a Nerf ball, of all things.

Then she started to freak out about Jacob touching her, and Paul took a moment to actually look up. Jesus, she was pregnant. They were going to get sued, he just knew it.

And then he looked her in the eye.

He felt like he had been hit instead – a sucker punch to the gut. She was turning and practically running away, and all Paul could think was _stop_. He had to follow her. He needed to be with her. He didn't even realize Embry and Jacob were holding him back at first, until she had almost made it back to her car. She was _his._

He'd fucking imprinted.

"Stop, Paul. _Stop_," Jared said quickly, echoing his thoughts. "She's pregnant. You can't just go running after her. There might be someone else. You have to wait."

"I don't want to fucking wait," Paul growled, but he relaxed enough that Embry and Jacob could drop their hold.

"She looked terrified," Jacob said slowly, "like we were going to hurt her or something."

Jared turned from where he'd been watching her retreat. "I think we should talk to Sam. This could be complicated," he said, looking at Paul with concern.

Paul whirled, walking further and further away from the woman, who was probably now taking off in her car and going to have her baby with her fucking husband. It was oddly hard to drag his feet to move in that direction. "I need a cigarette," he muttered, trying to ignore Embry and Jacob's whispering behind him.

Jared threw an arm around him, trying to cheer him. "Look. We can – we can work with this. She's not two. At least you won't be joining the Teletubbies gang with Quil," he said, trying to get him to laugh. Paul shrugged his arm off his shoulder and snorted.

"I just imprinted. I just fucking imprinted with a pregnant chick," Paul said again, stalking away from the beach and back towards the house. This imprinting shit was getting ridiculous, he thought, even as his body screamed to move in the opposite direction. All he wanted was _her_.

* * *

"Wait – I think I might know who she is. Maybe," Kim said slowly. She fiddled with the napkin in her hands, not noticing when it started to shred. She was leaning against the counter by the sink, next to Emily, who looked a little worried.

Paul felt like he could practically kiss Kim, even _if_ Jared would kill him afterwards. "You know her?" he asked. They'd gone back to the house, where Emily had taken one look at them and the story had come out. Sam hadn't even returned yet, but Emily and Kim had started making plans, trying to get the boys to describe her as best they could. Short, blond, looked tired and really pregnant was all Paul could come up with.

"Really short? Tiny, too? Even shorter than me?" Kim questioned after a short description. "I think – I _think_ she works at the Olympia Suites Motel with my cousin Laura," she said in response to their nods. "Works fronts desk. I think I've only heard her say two words when she's not on the phone, in all the times I've been over there. Laura _still_ hasn't gotten around to fixing her car yet," she added, rolling her eyes. Kim had been roped into giving her cousin a ride home from work two months ago, with the excuse that it would only be a week or two.

"What's her name? Is she married?" Paul asked. He wanted to know everything about her, wanted to hold her. It was hard not to turn around, go back to the beach, and try to follow where she had gone. He curled his fingers around the edge of the table, trying to take care not to dent the wood. He needed to be near her _now_.

"Didn't I just say she barely talks?" Kim said with a smile. "Relax, Paul. I'll call Laura to figure it out."

Kim ducked outside to use her cell, and Paul let his head fall onto the kitchen table with a thump. Jared patted him on the shoulder again, and Paul gritted his teeth to keep from phasing. Jared could go fuck off. All he had to do was _look_ at Kim, and _wham_ – happily ever after. _He_ fucking imprinted on a pregnant chick.

"Here's what we'll do," Emily spoke up, rooting around her pantry for the flour. She began pulling out ingredients for muffins. "Since Kim might know her, we'll send her over. I'll bake some muffins and Kim can apologize for you all acting like idiots on the beach," she said, turning to flash them a smile. "Kim can get her talking, and try to find out the situation with the – with the baby. And _then_ we'll talk to Sam with a better idea of the situation."

Kim bounced back into the kitchen, letting the door fall closed behind her with a slam. "Her name is Holly. Holly Smith," she said triumphantly. "She bought old Bonnie Jackson's house, down at the end of Big Pine Way in Forks. She's been here four months, from Ohio. _And_, she hasn't said a peep about anyone else. Laura thinks she lives alone."

Paul let out a whoop and stood up from the table to pick Kim up and spin her around. "Kiss your girl for me," he said with a grin, shoving her into Jared's arms. There was _no one else_. He could – he could go see her. He could hold her. He could keep her safe. Paul dropped back down into his chair at the table, limbs sprawled out. All he had to do was wait for Kim to come back. Things might not be as bad he thought.

Sam entered the kitchen, raising an amused eyebrow at Jared and Kim kissing in the middle of the kitchen. "Should I ask?"

"Paul imprinted on a pregnant chick," Jacob blurted out. Paul clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

Embry chimed in. "We're sending Kim to find out about the baby daddy."

"I'm sending muffins," Emily threw over her shoulder, getting the milk out of the fridge.

Paul went back to banging his head lightly on the kitchen table at the look on Sam's face. Paul was still the one fucking things up. He had stirred up more shit, just as things were finally starting to die down. Things were abso-fucking-lutely the same.


	3. Chapter 3

It was harder to dig splinters out of her hand than she thought it would be. Holly had returned to her house, without shells, and her plan for the day thrown off. It was disheartening. It had taken her almost an hour to find tweezers, and the blood had crusted on her hand when she turned to the task of pulling the splinters out.

It wasn't that she'd thought the men would truly hurt her, she thought, soaking a cotton ball with water to clean away the blood and sand. Holly knew, logically, that they were only trying to help her up after an accident, no matter how rude _some_ of them were. Still, in that moment when they were standing over her, she couldn't stop her rising fear. Brian had grabbed her wrist, that last time, holding it tight enough to bruise. Since then, she'd been a bit touchy.

The experience on the beach was enough to leave her shaken. It had taken her a good twenty minutes once she was home to stop worrying. First, she had been afraid, and then ashamed. She didn't want to be like this. She was so tired of being afraid. They had been trying to help her, and she had panicked. She had continued to panic even after she was home with her door locked. Her fear, frustration and guilt seemed to settle into a lump in the back of her throat, and it had taken far too long for her to remember she had left her tweezers in a bag with her rarely-used nail polish.

The doorbell rang just as she finished "operating," sending her heart racing again. Taking care not to use her bad hand, Holly answered the door cautiously, wishing the old house had come with a peep hole. When she opened the door, she didn't immediately recognize the woman in front of her, other than in a vaguely-familiar sort of way.

"Hi, Holly," she said a bit shyly, and it clicked. This was Laura's cousin – Kim, if she remembered right.

"Oh, hi, Kim," Holly replied. She was shy herself and unsure why the woman was on her doorstep. They'd spoken briefly a few times at work when Kim was there to drive Laura, but Holly didn't really know Kim, despite Laura's incessant chatter. "How are you?" she added politely.

"I'm fine. I'm actually here to apologize," Kim said, smiling, and she seemed more open and friendly. Holly had no idea what she could be apologizing for, though. "My fiancé and his friends are idiots. They feel terrible about hitting you on the beach. I brought you some muffins and I wanted to see if you were okay," she said, holding up a foil covered plate.

Holly was dumbfounded for a moment. When she found her voice, she opened the door wider. "Would you like to come in?" she asked. She didn't know what to do if Kim _did_ decide to come in, but she knew inviting someone in was generally the thing to do.

Kim smiled and stepped inside. Holly bit her lip, and then decided to take her into the kitchen. People visited around kitchen tables, right? It wasn't as if she had a parlor, like in some of the books she'd read. "Would you like something to drink?" she asked. She had some herbal tea she could make, and some water. She might also have some ginger ale tucked into the pantry. It wasn't much, but it was friendly, wasn't it?

"Sure. Some water would be nice," Kim replied, taking a seat at the kitchen table and setting the muffins at the center. "I hope you've put ice on that," she said seriously.

Holly raised her palm to look at it, slightly puzzled. She'd gotten all the splinters out of it. It was red and slightly swollen, but a bandage and some antibacterial spray should be fine.

Kim shook her head. "No, your face."

Holly reached up to touch her face where the ball had hit her cheekbone and winced at the pressure. She hadn't even glanced in the mirror – she'd been too preoccupied with her panic and her hand. She'd been distracted by the blood. "Oh," she said softly. "I – excuse me for a second," she told Kim, setting down the empty glass by the sink. She ducked into her bathroom and blinked at her reflection in the mirror. She had a large welt on the side of her face, red and raised. She tried to lightly touch her face, again wincing at the contact. She hadn't realized it was so bad.

Kim had taken her kitchen towel and put some ice in it when she returned. "Here, put this on it. At least they missed your nose," she told her, pressing the towel into her hands.

Holly smiled. "I didn't even realize," she confessed. She put the ice to her face and hissed at the cold. She turned on the tap with her other hand, filling Kim's glass of water. "Thanks for letting me know," she said a bit shyly, taking a seat at the table. She'd offered the woman a drink – Holly racked her brain for other things she'd seen Mrs. Howe do, when she'd had friends over.

Kim saved her from trying to think of something to say. "Oh, not a problem. The boys would have felt even worse if they'd seen you looking like you'd taken up boxing," she said lightly. She took a sip of her water while Holly shifted the ice on her face, still worrying over being a good hostess. "Laura said you were new to Forks. Do you like living here so far?" she asked.

Her smile was genuine and it made Holly relax a little bit. Kim seemed nice – nicer than her cousin, who intimidated Holly a bit. Laura always had an edge of impatience that rattled her. Kim seemed far more mellow. "I…I do," Holly said honestly, giving her a small smile. "I've only been here for about four months, but it seems very lovely here."

"Where did you move from, if you don't mind my asking?" Kim replied. "I've never been outside Washington, so I'm naturally curious," she added, flashing another smile.

"Ohio. I don't know if you've heard of Akron?" Holly said. Kim shook her head. "It's rather small, so I'm not surprised. Forks is a lot smaller, though. I'm not used to seeing everyone who lives here at the Thrifty Mart on Saturdays," she added, trying to make a little joke.

It worked. Kim laughed. "Yeah, La Push is the same. That's the rez, if you don't know," she told her. "We know _everyone's_ business, and of course, we get all the Forks gossip, too, since we're so close. It helps that Chief Swan is down all the time – he gossips worse than my mother," she joked back.

The _rez_. The term puzzled Holly for a moment until it all fell into place. The _Reservation_. She'd noted the dark skin of the men on the beach, but she hadn't even thought about them being Indians. _Native Americans_, she corrected herself mentally. She'd thought they were Hispanic or something, maybe. Kim had the same dark, _other_ look. It made her feel a bit silly, especially working with Laura for the past few months. She knew there was a reservation near here, but it wasn't something she'd ever actually thought about.

"There can't be that much to gossip about, can there?" Holly asked. "It's so quiet here."

"That's exactly why there's all the gossip," Kim replied with a laugh. "Not much else to talk about."

"Oh, that does make sense," Holly replied, smiling at the joke.

Kim took another drink of her water. "Being nosy again," she told her. "When are you due? I love babies," she said, smiling. "Do you know what you're having?"

Holly let her free hand drop to her stomach. "The first week in August. It's a girl," she said, this time smiling wide.

"Congratulations!" Kim said, clapping her hands. "That's wonderful. What are you going to name her?"

"I'm not sure," Holly admitted. "I haven't found the perfect name yet. I know I want her middle name to be Anne after – after someone I knew, but I can't decide on a first name. It's too hard with so many to choose from," she said.

"Oh, I hope you don't have to fight over it. Jared and I – my fiancé – we've talked about names a little bit, and we already disagree. No kids for us until I can talk him _out_ of wanting to name our first son after some Mariners' baseball player," she joked.

Holly laughed, but shrugged a little uncomfortably. "It's just me, actually," she admitted softly, not wanting to become part of the gossip. It was a small town – they wouldn't look down on her for not being married, would they? "The – father's – out of the picture," she forced herself to say.

"Oh, that must be terrible!" Kim replied, eyes compassionate. "You must be wearing yourself out trying to get things done."

Holly had flinched at the word terrible, but brightened a bit at the gentle response. "It's not so bad," she said quietly. "I've got two months, still. My list of things for the nursery isn't too long. I just want everything to be perfect, you know?" she admitted with a slight smile.

"I can imagine," Kim replied with a nod. She finished her glass of water. "I feel the same way about my wedding," she said with a grin. "I can't imagine how crazy I'll be with my first baby."

Holly smiled in return. It was _nice_, talking to Kim. Impulsively, Holly wished they could become friends. She'd always envied her favorite characters from books, with their one confidante or a best friend who would always be loyal. Maybe, someday, she'd have that, too.

Kim's phone rang, saving Holly from trying to think of something to say. She was _terrible_ at trying to keep a conversation going, she realized. She rearranged the ice on her face as Kim excused herself, answering the phone. The conversation was brief, and Holly tried not to listen in and be rude.

"I'm so sorry about that. I had to answer in case it was something important – Jared's working right now, and I never know when things come up," she told her, taking a seat again at the table.

Holly nodded, making a noncommittal noise.

"He's fine – it was Emily, actually. She made the muffins," Kim admitted, grinning a bit. "I'm a terrible cook. Jared works with her husband. Well, all the boys do," she added, as an afterthought. "Anyway, we generally eat dinner if they're both on patrol, and she wanted to know if you would like to come over this evening, too. She's a fabulous cook – I think she wants someone new to show off to," she said with a laugh.

It was a little overwhelming to Holly, and the flutter in her stomach had nothing to with the baby. She was a little apprehensive, but so happy as well. "Sure," she said softly. "What time should I come over?" she asked. Her mind didn't linger long on the word _patrol_. Perhaps they were police officers, too?

"Oh, I can pick you up. Getting to Em's can be a bit difficult if you've not really driven out to La Push much. Would six be fine?" Kim asked, rising from the table. Holly could tell that the visit was coming to a close. She set down the ice.

"Yes, that's fine," she said hesitantly. It wasn't as if she had any real plans. Perhaps it would be fun. She'd enjoyed herself talking to Kim. Meeting Emily couldn't be that bad, could it?

"Great!" Kim replied, giving her a bigger smile as she made her way to the door. "I'll see you then. I'm glad you're okay, Holly."

"Me too," Holly replied, giving her a soft smile as she let her out. "I'll see you later, then."

She closed the door with a sigh, and then smiled widely. She winced as it hurt her face. Still, it didn't damper her mood. That had gone well, even if she hadn't really known what she was doing. Holly patted her stomach. "Sounds like we'll be having a nice dinner tonight. Try not to crave peanut butter this time, please," she said sternly, then laughed.

* * *

"It will be hard, but try not to stare when you meet Emily. She was attacked by a bear a few years ago," Kim said matter-of-factly as they drove onto the reservation.

Holly blinked a few times. "All right," she said softly, feeling a bit apprehensive. You could be attacked by _bears_ here? That was not a happy, safe thought.

She got out of the Jeep slowly, studying the small clapboard house in front of her. There were a few plastic chairs out in the front yard, since there wasn't more than a stoop in the front. Kim held open the screen door for her, and Holly stepped inside to the front room.

Instead of stopping, Kim went through the open doorway to the kitchen, and Holly tentatively followed. The kitchen was a bit bigger, with a large table the focal point of the room. It was worn, but big enough to fit six around it comfortably, although not all the chairs matched each other. A dark haired woman was standing at the stove, but she turned as soon as they came through the archway.

Holly bit her lip to keep from reacting to her face. It was painful to look at, and she was sure it hadn't been a pleasant experience. "Hi," she said softly, looking her in the eyes to keep from staring.

"Hi, you must be Holly. I'm Emily." She reached out to shake her hand and then gestured to the table. "Please, have a seat."

Kim had taken a glass from the cabinet and turned to look at Holly. "Do you want something to drink?"

Holly shook her head, and watched Kim fill her glass from the tap. Emily had turned back to the stove where she was making something that smelled delicious. Kim hadn't been exaggerating about Emily's talent, at least if the food tasted as good as it smelled.

"How is your face feeling?" Emily asked, looking over her shoulder. She made a sympathetic face. "Oh, it looks like they got you good."

Kim turned a critical eye to Holly's face and Holly felt a little uncomfortable under the scrutiny. "It looks a little better than it did. Less swollen," she pronounced.

"Thank you, Dr. Morganroth," Emily teased.

Kim made a face at Emily's back. "It _does_ look a little better. How does it feel?" she echoed.

Holly shrugged. "It's all right. I don't really notice it unless I smile or laugh or something," she told them. "Then it hurts a bit, but it isn't bad." She paused, then added, "Thank you for having me over, Emily. It was nice of you to invite me."

Emily waved away Holly's thanks. "Oh, it's not a problem." She moved away from the stove, setting out a large plate of _something_ at the center of the table. "Frybread," she told her, taking a seat and helping herself to a piece.

"Still not as good as my grandmother's," Kim teased after taking a bite.

Emily rolled her eyes. "Sure, sure," she said.

Holly took a bite into the piece she was offered. It was surprisingly good. It reminded her a bit of the cinnamon twist somethings she used to get at Taco Bell, back in high school - or maybe a funnel cake. "This is really good," she told Emily.

Emily beamed. "Thank you. You haven't had it before?"

Holly shook her head. "No. "

"Oh, good, then you'll think mine's the best," Emily said with a laugh.

Kim rolled her eyes. "Em's not content being the muffin queen," she teased, grinning.

Holly smiled along with the joke, surprised at how easy it was. She'd always felt awkward, uncomfortable even, when she'd tried to make friends in the past. They weren't friends _yet_, but Holly couldn't stop wishing that they _could_ be someday.

The easy conversation continued through dinner, and Holly realized she hadn't laughed this much in a long time. Both Kim and Emily seemed sweet, but they clearly knew each other well enough to tease each other, too. It was incredibly entertaining.

She heard about the boys a bit, too – how Kim had been head over heels for Jared all through high school, and how proud Emily was of Sam. He seemed to be the chief of police or something for the rez. Holly hadn't even realized they had their own police.

There were bits about some of the others, men that she'd run into on the beach – although Emily and Kim persisted in calling all of them 'boys.' Personally, Holly had never seen a boy so tall. Still, they seemed so nice, she couldn't help but feel guilty and ashamed at her reaction on the beach. She was always messing something up, wasn't she?


	4. Chapter 4

AN: I know I've said this before, but as a head's up – Paul's got a foul mouth and a temper. He's not mature (although this story is about him growing and maturing). He likes to curse a lot. You've been warned.

* * *

Paul had been unfocused the entire patrol, jumping at random noises and running off, only to come back. He was even more irritable than normal, and everyone else avoided him, other than Jared. Even Quil, who'd attempted to be sympathetic over the whole imprinting situation, had been run off by his temper.

Paul could tell that Sam was disappointed and frustrated, but he didn't care. He knew he'd be seeing Holly later, and his stomach was in knots over the whole thing. He wanted to see her, but he also didn't. Over the urges of imprinting – the desire to find her, to protect her – he was angry. She was _pregnant_. She was some white girl from _Ohio_. There was no way in hell she'd believe this situation, and Paul didn't think she'd understand.

Even though the other guys had given him space, this train of thought caused Sam to interrupt. "It is curious that she is from Ohio. We'd thought that imprinting was to help the tribe. Everyone else has imprinted on people who were related to the old wolves."

"Some sort of genetic survival of the fittest bullshit," Jared agreed.

"Yeah, even the Makah girls have some Quileute in them," Jacob added.

Everyone could hear Embry's mental snicker at that.

"Pigs," Leah decided to chime in, but it was without heat. "I already knew that imprinting doesn't give a fuck about blood and genetics and whatever the fuck else is involved in passing on this wonderful _gift_," she snarled. "You were wrong, Sam."

At that, Paul phased out of being a wolf. He didn't want to deal with their bullshit on top of everything else. Jared paused, and then phased back himself. "Leah's a bitch. Don't let her get to you, man."

Paul let out a frustrated sigh. In truth, he thought Leah had the right of it. Imprinting was _fucked up_. He loved Emily – she was his cousin, after all – but if the imprinting shit was all about passing on the wolf genes, well, Leah had more of that anyway. Whatever mystical bullshit was at work with imprinting, it didn't give a fuck what people felt.

Jesus. Holly was _pregnant_. If, for some reason, she decided she did believe this bullshit and was cool with him, he'd be playing daddy. And he sure as hell didn't want to deal with _that_. He couldn't even stop phasing with his fucking friends. He didn't even _have_ a dad. How the fuck was he supposed to handle a kid?

He pulled on a pair of cutoff shorts. "I need to get some decent shit to wear if we're going to Em's for dinner," he said to Jared.

Jared shrugged and let Paul take the lead back to his grandmother's place. "Think they've managed to get her whole life story yet?" he joked, although the joke fell a little flat.

Paul shrugged, fishing his cigarettes out of his pocket and lit up. He inhaled once, then cursed and stubbed it out.

"What?"

"Not supposed to smoke around kids. Probably not pregnant women either. Shit," Paul muttered.

Jared shrugged. "Probably not."

They ambled back towards Paul's grandmother's house, taking their time since they weren't due back at Emily's yet. "Hey, Gran," Paul called, letting the door bang shut behind him. "Just grabbing some clothes."

He could hear her saying something to Jared as he ran upstairs to grab a shirt. He had debated whether to get a nicer pair of shorts, but ultimately decided to keep the cut offs. He didn't want to ruin a nice pair if he needed to leave quickly. Besides, this was who he was. He wasn't going to pretend something he wasn't, imprint or not.

Gran was in the kitchen talking to Jared when he came back down, and Paul threw an arm around her. "Eating at Em's tonight. Probably patrolling again afterwards," he told her, dropping a kiss on her cheek. "Remember, if anything's bothering you, call Emily and Sam's and we'll send someone over."

"Sure, sure," she said with a laugh, patting his cheek. She reached out to do the same to Jared. "Take care of yourselves boys."

"Be back later, Gran," Paul said over his shoulder, letting Jared follow again. He'd been awfully quiet, and it was the only reason Paul was putting up with him. They'd been friends long enough that Jared knew when Paul couldn't handle any more bullshit.

"What do you think Emily's made?" Jared asked.

"Dunno," Paul said with a shrug.

Jared sighed, and it was evident he was frustrated. "Damn, man. I'm trying here, but you're not giving me much to work with."

Paul clenched his fists, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He was not going to phase. Not over this. "Maybe I don't feel like talking. Ever think of that?"

"Yeah, well, Quil wouldn't shut up about it when he had his shit to deal with. Besides, it's me. You're going to have to talk sometime, or you know Leah's going to be bringing up your shit as soon as she's PMSing. You know how she is."

"Fuck off," Paul told him, but it was without heat. "I'm not cut out for this shit."

"What? Imprinting?"

"All of it," Paul growled. "Girls, _white_ girls, fucking _pregnant _white girls."

"What, you're telling me you're gay?" Jared said flippantly, trying to lighten the mood.

Paul glared. "S'not funny. I can't even keep my shit together around you guys. She's gonna end up like Em or worse – if she even believes this shit. She's not from here. She don't know us. This is a fucking disaster."

Jared's protests fell silent. "Yeah, I guess it is," he agreed.

Paul tried not to scowl as he pulled open the door to Emily and Sam's place. This was it. He was going to have to face her again.

He felt like he was going to throw up.


End file.
